


Sweet Tooth (Just a Taste)

by bluebright_l



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:52:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebright_l/pseuds/bluebright_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't know, I hate writing these. Theon and Robb, on Winterfell's kitchen table. It's sexy fluff, basically. The title says it all.</p>
<p>EDIT: This is now going to be a couple of chapters, because ~reasons~. So check back for more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Tooth (Just a Taste)

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for Doyle. ILU~

He’d woken up in the dark, his candle cold for hours, with a craving for something sweet. Robb Stark had always had something of a sweet tooth, had even been a bit pudgy as a little boy. Not fat by any means, just...plump. But when Theon had come...  
  
Robb smiled fondly as he dug through the pantry, looking for his nameday cake, the one he knew Gage, Winterfell’s cook, had made just that afternoon. He vividly remembered the day his father had brought Theon home from war, this whip-thin boy with a bow taller than him strapped to his back, black hair hanging in his eyes, the hint of a smile always lingering about his sharp features. The two boys had grown to be close, and Theon had often teased him about his baby fat, not unkindly, but...there was always an edge to Theon’s jests. Before long, Robb had (mostly) broken himself of his sweets habit.  
  
But now, with his father and sisters gone, and things so unsettled...well, Robb had fallen back into the habit. _And besides, what with all the swordplay and training, no one, not even Theon, could call me pudgy now,_ he thought indignantly. After a moment, Robb found the cake, dripping with honey, underneath a big bowl, hidden behind a sack of late summer apples. He grabbed an apple, grinning at Gage’s attempt at subterfuge and balancing the cake plate on one hand as he backed out of the pantry, kicking the door.  
  
There was a meaty thud, and a yelp. “Ow! For fuck’s sake!”  
  
“Shit!” Robb spun away from the door just as Theon slammed it back against the door frame, holding a hand to his nose and glaring half-heartedly. He managed to keep the cake balanced long enough to slide it onto the huge, scarred oaken table in the middle of the kitchen. “Theon?! What’re you doing? You’re going to wake half the castle slamming the door like that...”  
  
“Following you, you ass.” Theon snatched the apple out of Robb’s hand and boosted himself up to sit on the table, tipping a bowl to look at its contents. “You sneak like an aurochs...I heard you get up. Your mother’ll tan your hide, nameday or no, if you eat that cake.” He took a bite off the apple and tossed it to Robb with a short laugh. “Unless you tell her Jon did it. Not that he would, with the stick he’s got up his arse...”  
  
Robb frowned as he bit into the apple, the tartness of it nowhere near the sweetness he was craving. “Leave off. And I’m not going to eat the _whole_ cake...I just wanted a taste.” He tossed the apple back, rolling his eyes when Theon snagged it with his off-hand and and a wink. “Showoff,” he muttered.  
  
“A taste, is it?” Theon leaned over and slid the cake a ways down the table, putting himself between it and Robb with a grin that was positively wolfish. “Work for it, then. _Boy_.”  
  
Robb growled, lunging at his friend and tackling him to the table. “Fuck off, Greyjoy, I’m just as much a man as you now, and you know it.” He’d’ve sworn he had Theon pinned hand and foot, but quick as a flash, the older boy’s hand snaked out, grabbing a bowl and dumping it over Robb’s head. There was a soft _flump_ and flour sifted through his auburn curls, went up his ears, nose and mouth, dusted his eyelashes...Theon was laughing almost hysterically, and Robb felt a chuckle growing in his chest despite himself.  
  
“Ahaha! You should sh-should see yourself!” Theon was still struggling under him, trying to free himself, but his laughter was hindering matters.  
  
Robb shook his head like Grey Wind did after a bath, teeth bared in a sort of feral grin, and flour rained down on Theon, stark white against the inky black of his hair. Then he began to struggle in earnest, but Robb was bigger, and held him fast. At least, until Theon drove a knee into his gut, and flipped him on the table.  
  
“Fucking hells!” Robb wheezed. He got a leg in between Theon’s, trying to use the other boy’s own momentum as leverage, but Theon’s hips twisted to counteract the move, brushing against his own in a rather distracting manner. “Damnit, Greyjoy, let me up!”  
  
“Do you yield, wolf?” _Oh, the grin on him...the insufferable ass..._  
  
“Never, kraken...” Robb wrenched a hand free, fingers scrabbling on the table for something, another bowl of flour, perhaps. Then, suddenly, his hand sank into a warm, sticky... _oh shit. The cake...well, you’ve put your hand right through it anyway..._ He took a big, heaping handful of cake, sodden with honey, and smashed it right into Theon’s face.  
  
They both went stock-still for a moment, and then Robb reached up and swiped his hand across Theon’s face, biting back a laugh until he saw how his friend would react. Theon just collapsed on him, laughing his fool head off. Robb laughed with him, trying to shush him in between gales of laughter, which only made Theon laugh all the harder.  
  
Finally, desperate to keep him quiet, Robb just planted a hand over Theon’s mouth. Which is when Theon _bit_ him. Well, nipped, really...teeth pinching at the base of his thumb, and then, _oh gods, what...?_ , a rough swipe of the tongue over the same spot. An incoherent moan slipped past Robb’s lips, and his hips arched up involuntarily against Theon’s. They didn’t have far to go, as Theon was pressing down on him, and _oh GODS_ , sucking at that same spot on his hand, tongue flicking along the length of his thumb.  
  
Robb pulled his hand away as if Theon were burning him, but that was worse, because now he could see his smile, the one that made the kitchen maids giggle and his lady mother frown. Robb thought maybe he understood why now...it wasn’t an especially nice smile, but _fuck_ , it had something to it, alright. _Something..._ Robb thought distractedly, hips pumping upwards, eager for friction. _I can’t..._ Thinking was impossible, so he let it go.  
  
Theon leaned down, nose to nose with Robb, settling into a spot against him that made Robb whimper and buck erratically for a moment. “Yield, then,” he whispered, still smiling that sharp smile.  
  
“Fuck you, Greyjoy!” The exclamation didn’t carry much weight, as Robb was rocking against him, desperate for more contact, less clothing, something, anything.  
  
“Yield, and you can, Stark.” Theon’s eyes were dark and unreadable, but his hips were grinding down just as desperately as Robb’s were thrusting upwards, and he’d never stopped smiling. “Say it, and you can do as you please...”  
  
 _Yield?_ Robb wouldn’t, couldn’t, let the word pass his lips. He could see only one other option. Craning his neck, he bridged the gap between their mouths, his free hand wrapping around the back of Theon’s neck to pull him closer, the kiss more of a crash than anything else, lips, teeth, and tongues colliding in reckless abandon. Robb soon realized that this wasn’t going to solve much, as he wasn’t yielding so much as attacking. He caught Theon’s lower lip between his teeth, pulling gently at first, then harder, but the other boy only laughed and nipped back.  
  
Finally, it was too much. “P-please, Theon...”, Robb couldn’t bring himself to yield, but evidently begging was just as good, because suddenly Theon’s hands were under his shirt, pulling it off, then at his laces, loosening them deftly as his head bent to suck hard on Robb’s collarbone. Theon slipped a hand down Robb’s breeches, the angle awkward, but enough to wrap clever fingers around his cock, freeing it from his breeches.  
  
This sudden flurry of activity meant that Robb’s hands were free, and he took advantage, tugging Theon’s shirt over his head, moaning at the sensation of skin on skin, _finally, gods, I can’t..._ Theon was stroking his cock, and his grip was all wrong, _no, not wrong, just...different,_ but Robb wanted _more_. He managed to snake a hand between them and, stretching a bit, was able to reach Theon’s laces and yank them out sharply. He wasn’t wearing any smalls, _of course, you know he never does,_ and Robb grasped him, rough in his eagerness, but Theon only grunted and rocked his hips along with Robb’s jerky strokes.  
  
After a few moments of this, hands stroking, mouths hungrily seeking bare skin, breath hot on each other’s necks, Robb felt his toes tingling, his balls tightening, an all-too-familiar series of sensations. _No, it’s too_ soon _, it’s not enough..._ But thinking so did not make it so, and when Theon scraped his teeth along the tendons of his neck, down to the hollow of his throat, Robb came with a strangled cry.  
  
“Fuck, Robb...” Theon was breathless, grinding into Robb’s hand. “Just...a bit more...” He was sucking on Robb’s neck now, hard, too hard, _fuck, there’ll be marks for certain...he’ll help me think of something_ , and Robb adjusted his grip slightly, his fingers sticky with honeyed cake and precome.  
  
The new angle proved to be most effective; Theon arched into Robb, spilling into the negligible space between them, moaning sweet, filthy things against the curve of his ear all the while. When he’d spent himself completely, Theon collapsed on top of Robb, all sharp angles and comforting warmth. Unsure now that the frenzy had passed, Robb let his hand rest gently on Theon’s back, not knowing what else to do with it. Evidently, that was acceptable, as Theon just made an indecipherable sound and pressed warm lips to Robb’s clavicle, feather-light.  
  
After a few heartbeats, Theon propped himself up on his elbows over Robb, his smile softer now than it had been. “Well,” he said, “that was...” _Oh, don’t say something stupid, gods...I never asked for any of this, these_ feelings _, seven hells I just wanted some cake!_ Theon went on, chuckling, “Well, happy nameday to you, anyway.”  
  
Robb snorted, amused and relieved. _Leave it to Theon..._ “My thanks, Greyjoy.” Impulsively, he leaned up and kissed him, licking a trace of cake from the corner of his mouth, and it was far sweeter than he ever could’ve imagined.


End file.
